Four Times The Doctor Ruined Rory's Day
by Eclectic Muse
Summary: ... And one time he didn't. All Rory wants is a little time alone with his girlfriend. Is that really too much to ask?


**Author's Notes:** This was originally intended to be a shortish crackfic, but it got way out of hand. Technically takes place in the Road Not Taken 'verse (some of the events mentioned will take place in that story) but it isn't essential to read that story to get this. Thanks as always to my super betas, the_willows and stars_fell on LJ , you two are awesome. :)

Makes one blatant and several vague references to _The Caves of Androzani_, and one reference to the Sixth Doctor NA _Burning Heart_ that is so vague if anyone catches it they are to be commended.

* * *

The Doctor was concerned about Amy.

Ever since that unfortunate business on Nerebelis 6, she hadn't quite been herself. Normally sharp, talkative and sassy, she had grown pensive and withdrawn and spent most of her time just quietly observing the goings-on around the TARDIS - a far cry from the girl he had first taken on board. It hurt him to see her suffer so, but he knew there was nothing he could do. The Doctor was certain that the true root of her sullen mood had almost nothing to do with their recent adventure - horrific though it had been - and everything to do with their sometime traveling companion and her best friend from home, Rory Williams.

Well, the Doctor amended to himself, the two things were not completely unrelated. Rory had taken a nasty hit during their confrontation with the Nerebelid Oppositional Force, and had survived only through the quick thinking of several field medics with the Imperial Army. He'd been taken to a hospital in a city far away from the infighting for surgery and recovery and it was a full week before he had been deemed fit for release.

While the Doctor had spent their downtime marveling at the city architecture and meeting with Imperial elders to assist in the war effort, Amy had rarely left Rory's bedside. The shock of seeing her friend gunned down had affected her deeply. She initially had refused to leave the hospital at all, even when the Healers said there was nothing more that she could do. Eventually the Doctor had been able to coax her out into the city for some walks and time away from the calm white sterility of the healing ward, and some of the life had slowly started to return to her face.

The Doctor recalled the harrowing minutes when everything had gone to hell. Negotiations with the Oppositional Force were crumbling fast, and the Praetor had lost his patience. He demanded the life of one of the prisoners - the female, the one with strange hair the color of fire, whose arrival the prophets of old had said would signal the downfall of their race.

They were mistaken, the Doctor had said quickly, there _was_ no prophecy - he'd proven the holy tablets to be nothing more than forgeries placed by a rival faction, hadn't he? But the Praetor would not listen to reason. He had seen his power start to slip from his fingers, and he was desperate to claim victory.

Without warning the Praetor had raised his rifle, pointed it squarely at Amy's chest, and fired.

Everything seemed to slow down then: the yells of the Imperial delegates, his own scream of terror, and Amy only having time to blink wide eyes in surprise before the laser bolt cut her down.

A blur of movement caught his eye. Rory had sprung into action, turning to Amy and _pushing_ just as the rifle fired. She'd stumbled and fallen to the ground just in time to miss the fatal shot, but it had hit Rory instead. The Doctor could only watch in horror as his friend crumpled lifelessly to the ground.

Time sped back up. With a roar of fury, the Imperial Captain had charged the Praetor from his spot behind the Doctor, his lieutenants following suit. Within a seconds a full-blown firefight was underway.

The Doctor ran to Amy, dodging blaster bolts as he went. She was on her knees next to Rory's still form, shaking him and screaming incoherently. His hearts sank as he saw the blaster bolt hole in the other man's chest; it was still smoking. Already his life seemed to be quickly fading.

More movement in the corner of his eye caused him to look up. The remaining Nerebelids were crowding in on them; the Doctor recognized them as being Healers with the Imperial unit that had remained on the periphery during the negotiations. Humming quietly, they surrounded Rory and began to pick him up in their gentle, waving tentacles.

"Wait!" Amy had cried. "What are you doing, where are you taking him? Leave him alone!"

The Doctor made eye contact with one of the Healers; they understood. He nodded to them and took Amy by the shoulders.

"We need to leave this place," he said fast and low into her ear. "It isn't safe anymore. We have to get back to the TARDIS."

Amy wasn't listening. She tried to run after the Nerebelids, who were quickly rushing Rory away from the fight and off into the forest, but the Doctor held her back. "Let go! Let go of me!" she screamed. She thrashed in his arms. "We can't leave him - _we can't leave him here!_ _Rory!_"

In the end the Doctor had had to exert strength that surprised even him just to get Amy back to the TARDIS. Once inside, he sprinted for the console and immediately started punching in coordinates, hands flying over the controls. Amy remained at the door, beating on them with her fists and yanking on the knobs in an effort to open them.

"Let me out!" she sobbed, tears streaming down her face. "_We can't leave him here!_"

"Amy." It was a command, not a request. He punched in the last number and yanked a lever. As the central rotor groaned into motion, he ran back to the door and took her by the shoulders again, pulling her around to face him. "Amy. Look at me, Amy. Look."

She refused at first and tried to twist away, but he put a gentle finger on her chin and turned her face so she was forced to meet his gaze and hold it. His hearts broke at the devastation in her eyes.

"Listen to me, Amy," he said quietly but firmly. "We are _not_ leaving him. If we'd stayed there, we'd be dead too. I had to let the Imperials take him because there was nothing you or I could do. We couldn't have gotten him back here in time. The Imperials will take care of him. Do you understand?"

After a second, Amy nodded numbly. The Doctor smiled for her benefit and patted her cheek, quickly running a thumb under her eyes to dry her tears. "Good. Now," he said, running back to the console, "We're headed for the nearest Imperial outpost. I've got the coordinates set. That's where they'll be taking Rory, and we should get there in time to meet them. Do you trust me?"

Amy still hadn't moved from the door, but she nodded. It was a good sign. The Doctor just hoped against all hope that Rory wasn't already dead.

Back in the present, the Doctor breathed a sigh of relief. Rory had in fact survived, thanks to superior Nerebelid medical technology, though even that hadn't been guaranteed at first. But still, he was alive - they all were - and although the scars would take time to heal, the Doctor was just thankful both of his friends remained alive to _be_ healed.

Watching as Amy withdrew into herself, his hearts ached for her. He knew very well how the old adage went: you never know quite how much a person means to you until you nearly lose them. It was obvious to him that Amy had confronted that reality head-on and now suffered from a conflicted heart. The way she watched Rory when she thought no one else was looking sang the truth: she had just realized that her feelings for a boy she'd known her whole life ran considerably deeper than just that of friends - and she had no idea of what to do with them.

In a way, it was almost a relief to the Doctor. He and Amy had gotten off to a rocky start; she hadn't taken the revelation of his true identity very well, and he still had lingering guilt over his treatment of her in his post-regenerative stress. But the foundation for their friendship had been laid, and in the end her trust and belief in him had won out. It had taken Amy a good while to sort out her feelings regarding John Smith versus the Doctor, and somewhat selfishly the Doctor hoped this would be the final chapter on it. He knew a part of Amy would always love him - just as a part of him would always love her in return - but he had long ago learned that the only love he knew how to give was not the kind of love that most humans sought and needed. Perhaps Amy had realized this as well.

"Amy?" The Doctor came up next to her, his face concerned. She was leaning against the central console, watching the numbers and symbols flashing by on the control monitor. "Is anything the matter? You're being awfully quiet."

She blinked a few times before looking back at him. "Hmm?"

He couldn't help but chuckle, and patted her shoulder as he crossed behind her to stand on her opposite side. She was in the way of a particular lever that needed oiling, but it could wait for the moment. He nudged her with his elbow.

"_And_ easily distracted," he added. "What's on your mind?"

Amy shrugged. "Nothing much ... just trying to see if I can read the monitor. I guess the translation circuit doesn't work for this, then?"

It was a gentle redirect, if an unconscious one; he knew she wasn't really trying to read it. He smiled at her nonetheless.

"Not for this, no; the TARDIS doesn't need to. That's Gallifreyan, my home language."

She perked a bit at this information, and studied the monitor more closely. "Really? But ... what if something happens to you? And you couldn't fly the TARDIS, and I had to? Or Rory had to? We wouldn't know what to do, and we can't read Gallifreyan, and that really wouldn't be any help." She paused, and smirked a little. "Your monitor here is rubbish."

"Oi!" He could only pretend to be offended; he was just glad to see her smiling. "Nothing about this TARDIS is rubbish, Amy! If the time ever came where you had to control the TARDIS on your own - and mind you, I don't see that ever happening - I suppose she would just know, and translate for you. She's good like that." He patted the console fondly. "Not that I would actually know one way or the other; I don't think there's ever been a time where the TARDIS _did_ need to translate."

"You think too highly of yourself," Amy chided. "I know how clumsy you are, just you wait. You'll crack your head on the console, or trip and fall down the stairs, and we'll need to take you for stitches. I'm calling it right now."

"Time Lords do not fall down stairs," he replied serenely. "We ... slide with grace."**  
**  
Amy snorted and smacked at his arm. He took the abuse and winked at her before moving back around the console.

"I'm going to go see where Rory's gone off to," she said after a minute. "You'll be all right here by yourself? You're sure you don't need me to stick around and make sure you don't make the rotor come down on top of you?"

The Doctor waved his hands at her. "Shoo, off with you," he muttered, feigning hurt. "I can manage quite well on my own, thank you."

"Of course you can, Doctor." She paused to lay a hand briefly on his arm on her way out; he nodded in return, and then she was gone. He busied himself with cleaning the switches on the console like he'd been meaning to for weeks. They would be okay, the two of them, he was sure of it. Her heart had always been in the right place.

It had just taken him some time to realize that it wasn't with him.

* * *

Amy found Rory in the TARDIS library. He was standing in the stacks nearest the fireplace, several books on alien astronomy under one arm and one finger on a row that dealt with star charts. He looked up at the sound of the door opening, and smiled when he saw it was her.

"Amy, look at this," he said, motioning her over. "Did you know that the TARDIS has an observatory? Well, something like it, anyway. I found it on accident on my way back from the kitchen. It's this huge, vast room, but it can show any sky you want it to show! So I asked it to be early winter in the Caribbean. I've always wanted to know what the Big Dipper looks like from the equator." He looked pleased, like he'd just discovered a big secret. "As soon as I saw it I knew I had to show you."

She already knew about the room - she and the Doctor had had some of their best conversations there - but she didn't divulge that knowledge to Rory. Instead, she smiled as she poked at the books in his hand. "Getting big ideas then, are you?"

Rory shrugged demurely. "I just know you used to have that telescope when you were younger," he replied. "You'd set it up in the back garden and let me look through it. I thought maybe you'd like to see some alien stars, but I wouldn't even know where to start, so--" He gestured to the tomes in his hand. "I found some books." When Amy's eyes lit up at the prospect, he added, "So you want to go then?"

Amy nodded, and he headed for the door, grinning excitedly.

On their way to the observatory, Amy reflected on how well Rory had adjusted to life in the TARDIS. She hadn't expected him to accept it so quickly, but then it seemed Rory was full of surprises. He'd even bounced back relatively well from nearly dying a million light years away from home, on a planet whose name he couldn't even properly pronounce. Even the Doctor had eased up on his gentle ribbing of him after that.

Once inside, they walked several paces into the room before setting their books on the floor before them. The room in default mode was large, all smooth walls and floors resembling concrete painted a dull gray. Rory picked up the first book in the stack, humming to himself. "Where to start, where to start," he murmured, flipping through the pages. Amy leaned in close to read along.

"There," she said suddenly, jabbing her finger down on a page. Rory stopped flipping. "It's an alphabetical list of some planets, I think," she explained. "We could start at the top. How about ... that one?"

Rory nodded amiably and raised his head to look out into the room. "Androzani Minor, late spring," he called out confidently.

Immediately, the room before them changed. The drab gray walls disappeared to be replaced by a wide expanse of rolling plain, and the floor beneath them rippled out into short, gently waving yellow grass. Above them, the ceiling morphed into a kaleidoscope of light, spinning dizzily until coming to rest on a sky dotted with twinkling stars and a purplish planet hanging low on the horizon. Once finished, they could see that some distance in front of them the grassy hill ended abruptly in a cliff that sloped down towards what looked to be mud flats pockmarked with dark holes. A light breeze stirred the suddenly-warm air.

Amy gasped in delight. "It's beautiful!" she whispered, looking around in awe. Even though the room itself was old hat to her, the transformations never ceased to amaze. She could watch the room morph into a hundred more different worlds and she would still have the same response. Beside her, Rory was grinning in satisfaction.

"You like it, then?" he asked, gingerly lowering himself to sit in the grass. She followed suit and nodded quickly.

"It's wonderful," she said. Leaning back on her elbows, she looked up at the wholly unfamiliar sky and tried to find a point of reference that she recognized, but there were none. It was a vast new universe that was opened up before them.

"Sure beats the view from Leadworth," Rory was saying as he too leaned back. "I can't believe how real this actually looks. I can feel the wind, and smell the grass - hell, the grass even pulls up." He broke off a blade of said grass and spun it between two fingers. "It's like being on an actual alien planet, minus any danger. How far out do you think the ground really goes?"

"Farther than you would think before you'd be forced to turn back," she heard herself saying, but her mind was suddenly far away. _Minus any danger_. Looking at him, she no longer saw a carefree Rory who was lounging on the grass with eyes pointed skyward and a smile on his face. Instead she saw a Rory who was lying in a similar position, but deathly pale and motionless, surrounded by monitors and tubes and beeping equipment; the entire left side of his chest and shoulder swathed in bandages. Sudden tears pricked at her eyes, and she shook her head to clear the memory.

She could not understand how Rory had recovered so quickly mentally, when she was still having nightmares. She'd mentioned it just once to the Doctor, who had hypothesized that perhaps one of the ways Rory's body had dealt with the trauma was to shut down on that sequence of events, effectively giving him selective amnesia. Indeed, when asked, Rory couldn't remember anything that happened after the Praetor demanded a sacrifice. All he remembered was a choking terror.

He hadn't even been surprised when told what he had done. "Would do it again," he had mumbled before falling back into unconsciousness. Shocked and terrified at his depth of loyalty, Amy had been unable to eat dinner or sleep that night. That had also been the day the Doctor started treating him with a newfound sort of respect that she couldn't quite put a name to.

She looked at him again. He was shutting each eye in turn, squinting up at the sky. "How are you feeling?" she asked carefully.

He glanced at her. "Oh, fair enough I suppose," he replied, sitting up and experimentally flexing his shoulder. He winced a little. "Still get tired easily and it hurts if I use it too much. But I'm all in one piece." He gave her a reassuring smile. "Those Nerebelids did a bang-up job of putting me back together again."

Once again Amy envied his lack of memory and his glib manner of speaking about it. "They did," she murmured, crossing her legs and picking at the grass in front of her. Her good mood was rapidly disappearing. She was acutely aware of his presence next to her now; he was so close that their knees almost touched. She felt that fluttery feeling in her stomach again, which only intensified when she looked at him - familiar features and a kind smile that she would know anywhere. That she had always known. That she always wanted _to_ know.

The realization hit her like a sucker punch to the gut. She gasped and glanced wildly at Rory to see if he had noticed anything out of the ordinary, but he seemed unperturbed; in fact, he looked almost half-asleep. She grabbed a handful of grass and started shredding the tender blades in frustration.

Oh dear. This was a complication. Not an unwelcome one, but one she was unprepared for. Why only now? Why not before she'd ever left Leadworth, why not when John Smith had disappeared from their lives? Why not before they'd ever even met the Doctor? It would have made things so much easier. But then again, if the Doctor had never come back, the status quo between them would never have changed. They would still be Amy and Rory, best friends at uni now, getting on with their lives, perhaps slowly drifting apart.

And the thought of that _hurt_.

"Rory?" she asked quietly. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure." He didn't move from his position of flat on his back until a minute passed without a reply, and he opened his eyes to see how serious she looked. He sat up quickly, wincing as he put pressure on his left arm. "You all right, Amy?"

She dropped the last of the mangled grass on the ground before her. "Yes, I think so." She felt uncharacteristically timid, and it was showing. "How's your strength holding up?"

He didn't seem to mind the odd question. "Best it's been so far," he replied. "Why?"

Her hands were nearly shaking, and it was a few moments before she replied. "Because--" She took a deep breath. "Because I think this is way overdue." Before she could lose her nerve, she leaned over and kissed him square on the lips.

Rory responded by going completely rigid. Almost immediately Amy jerked back in shock, eyes wide. He was frozen, staring at her with a stunned face. Finally, he blinked. "W-What was that for?" he stammered.

Amy felt her heart turn to dust. She'd just made a terrible mistake, she was sure of it - she'd been a fool to think that he would still feel the same as he did when she left Leadworth, when he told her he loved her and that he always had. Of course it would have tempered over time, and why should it have not? She'd essentially rejected him by leaving anyway. She'd just assumed that he'd be there, just like he always had, always dependable and always faithful. She'd taken him for granted, and now she had messed up. Big time. She felt sick to her stomach.

"I--I--" She turned away from him, drawing her knees up to her chin and hugging her legs. She was too ashamed to even look him in the eye; she could feel hot tears threatening to spill over. "I don't know, I just, I--"

Rory's voice was flat. "You don't know?"

God, it was like coming back to Leadworth all over again. She wiped hastily at her eyes. "No! I do know, it's just--" She stopped and looked out toward the mud flats, breathing deeply. She was stronger than this. Crying wouldn't do. "I've been having nightmares ever since - ever since you got ... hurt. I can't stop them. All I see is you getting shot, over and over again. Sometimes you die right there, sometimes you don't. Sometimes you die with your eyes closed, and sometimes you're staring right at me." Her voice was wobbly; just thinking about what had happened made her a threat to cry again. She shuddered and finally looked at him, her face full of anguish. "You almost _died_, Rory, when it should have been me! You almost died, and I can't ... I couldn't ..."

Rory watched in silence as Amy broke down in tears. He was stunned; Amy had always been so strong in the face of everything, she hated looking weak. She'd had to be, to survive living with her father. It was only the second time he'd ever seen her lose her composure, and it hurt just as much as the first time had. He hesitantly reached a hand out towards her.

"But I'm alive," he said awkwardly. "And so are you."

"But you almost weren't," she insisted, sniffling. "You don't remember. We almost lost you, and I've never been so scared in my whole life, I was _so scared_ that you were gone and I'd never see you again. We'd never talk or laugh or stay up late watching bad movies on the telly. I know it's just stupid little things, but ..." Her words were coming faster and faster, tumbling out in a rush like they'd been building up for some time and she couldn't contain them anymore. "And when you were in the hospital, I realized I didn't know what to do without you. You've always been here for me, my whole life, the one good constant, and the thought of you not being in it ... Rory, I've taken you for granted. I'm sorry, I'm _so_ sorry, and I don't blame you if you hate me now ..."

"I could never hate you, Amy," he said quietly.

"You should," she replied miserably. "I've treated you like dirt. I knew how you felt and I asked you to come along anyway and it must have been awful for you ..." She squeezed her eyes shut. "I don't know what I'd do without you," she repeated. "You're my best friend, you know everything about me. I can't separate myself from you in my mind anymore. I don't ... I don't want to ever have to live without you, I _can't_ live without you, because ... because I just wouldn't know _how_ to."

Rory stared at her in shock. "What are you trying to say?" he asked hoarsely.

He thought he knew what she was getting at. He just needed to hear her say it.

Amy took a deep breath and raised her eyes to his. Her voice when she spoke was very small, but very certain.

"... I love you."

Rory felt his heart stop for one, two, three beats. Then he drew in a shuddering breath that exploded in a shaky sort of half-laugh. He blinked, and pinched his own arm. It hurt.

"Ow, bugger," he muttered, rubbing at the red skin.

Amy was watching his every move, her breath congealed in her throat.

"... Rory?" she ventured.

He snapped his head back up to look at her, and there was a light in his eyes that hadn't been there seconds before. "Say it again, please," he whispered. "Tell me I'm not dreaming."

This time Amy reached out to take one of his hands, and held it against her cheek. "I love you, Rory," she repeated softly.

A huge grin began to spread over his face and, laughing in delight, he suddenly jumped to his feet and pulled her with him. His smile was infectious - Amy found herself grinning back, mostly out of relief but also from the growing happiness that she'd been wrong after all.

"Amy Pond loves me!" he crowed at the stars, and swooped her into a spinning hug. He barely noticed his protesting shoulder anymore. Amy shrieked giddily and clung to his neck as her feet left the ground. Funny, she thought, and amazing that she could go from having a dead heart to one bursting with life, all in seconds and all on the words of one man.

Rory set her back down on her feet, keeping steadying hands at her waist, and beamed at her; the total joy she could see on his face in the moonlight touched her heart. Rory had always been so laid-back and muted that she didn't think she'd ever seen his face this expressive. It transformed him. How had she never noticed how attractive he was when he smiled?

He was busy pushing a stray bit of hair out of her face. "How trite would it be of me," he said, "if I said that I love you too?"

"Not one bit," Amy replied happily.

She'd been afraid that kissing Rory would feel like kissing a brother. Thankfully, that fear vanished the instant he pressed his lips to hers. He tasted faintly of chocolate, and mint, and a lifetime's worth of love that had been held back. The rush of emotion made her head swim. The kiss was very sweet and gentle - like he was afraid she break and disappear like a dream. She pulled back a fraction of an inch.

"Rory," she whispered, grinning, "I'm not going anywhere."

"Yes, well," he mumbled against her mouth, "I still expect to wake up tomorrow and find out I was dreaming."

She reached up to stroke his face tenderly. "Believe it. You're stuck with me now."

"At least you gave me a choice," he teased, and bent his head to kiss her again.

They were still embracing, swaying slowly on the spot, when a door opened in the air behind them and the Doctor walked in. His face drained of all color.

"Oi, what's this?"

Rory and Amy jumped apart, startled. "Er, uh--" a red-faced Rory began.

But the Doctor wasn't looking at them - he was looking at the landscape and the sky above and around them. "What have you _done?_" he demanded.

His two companions exchanged confused glances. "It's just the observatory," Amy explained slowly. "We picked a planet out of a book to look at, it's called--"

"I know very well what planet this is," the Doctor snapped. Amy's mouth fell open in stunned hurt, and Rory placed a hand on her elbow. They'd never had the Doctor take that tone with them before.

After a moment, he sighed and his eyes softened. "I think you two had better leave," he said quietly. "It's getting late, after all." He paused, opened his mouth as if to say something else, then shut it again.

Amy hesitated; she wanted to know what they'd done to upset him so much, but Rory tugged on her arm and shook his head. Hand-in-hand, the two of them slunk out like badly scolded children. Before he shut the door behind them, Rory turned to look back at the Doctor. He was standing where they had left him, arms crossed and staring up at the sky with an unreadable look on his face. Rory frowned.

_Well, that was weird ..._

* * *

The Doctor was not surprised to see Rory come into the console room the next morning looking like he had just won the lottery.

"Sleep well last night, Rory?" he asked mildly.

"What? Oh, yes." Rory's cheeks turned faintly pink. "Ahem."

The Doctor grinned to himself and turned back to his toolbox, selecting a spanner and lowering his goggles. He already knew how Rory's night had gone, and that Rory was aware of that. He'd found both him and Amy asleep sitting up on the couch in the library, a picture book of alien landscapes open across their laps. He'd replaced the book to its proper shelf and taken a blanket from the ottoman by the armchair, pausing for a moment before draping it over them. Amy's head was resting on Rory's shoulder, and his arm was slung along the back of the couch behind her. They'd be stiff in the morning, but it was the least he could do for having been so rude in the observatory.

Rory ambled over to where the Doctor was fitting a panel back to the base of the central console, sparks spitting from the tip of the spanner. Once the last corner was soldered back into place, Rory wordlessly picked up a buffer from the toolbox and passed it over. The Doctor thanked him with a quick nod and set about wiping off scorch marks while Rory tossed the spanner into the box and leaned back against the railing.

"About last night," he said.

The Doctor raised his eyebrows.

Rory swallowed. "What was that all about?"

He turned back to buffing the console and went so long without replying that Rory feared the Doctor was going to ignore him completely. He tried again. "You've been there before," he pressed. "Androzani Minor."

The Doctor had been wiping circles in the same spot for a solid three minutes. "Yes, I have," he finally said. "A long time ago."

Unbidden, a murky image swirled up from the depths of his mind, a near ghost of a memory. It was a girl's face, barely older than Amy, her short bobbed hair the same color as his own. Her eyes were wide and frightened, but the trust in them - in _him_ - was implicit. He hadn't deserved it, especially not after--

He slammed the door shut on that memory. Some doors were better left closed.

"I'd rather not go back," he finished.

Rory nodded, feeling slightly guilty. Whatever had happened on Androzani Minor, it hadn't been good. He changed the subject. "There's one other thing. Amy ..."

His dark mood diffused, the Doctor groaned to himself. "What about her?"

"I just wanted to make sure you're - okay with that."

The Doctor rolled his eyes behind his goggles. "With you and Amy? Why wouldn't I be? I'm not her father."

"You're joking, right?" It was Rory's turn to roll his eyes. "I know how she felt about you, and you wouldn't have come back if you didn't feel the same."

The Doctor stood and pushed his goggles up. "You can be pretty daft sometimes, you know that? We came to an understanding a long time ago. It was latent effects of post-regenerative stress and she ... well, I can't vouch for her." He shut the lid on the toolbox with slightly more force than necessary.

Rory crossed his arms. "I just don't want to be accused of stealing someone else's girl."

"Oh, stop," the Doctor replied, exasperated. "She's not 'my' girl, and she looked perfectly happy last night. If you're what it takes to make her smile again, I'm all for it. The two of you are free to do as you please." How long had it been since he'd had a conversation like this? Lifetimes, surely, and he'd hated it even then. "But!" He held up a warning finger. "I don't want any shenanigans going on in my TARDIS."

"_Excuse_ me?"

"You heard me," the Doctor replied. "No hanky-panky. Intercourse. Boinking. Shagging. Whatever you humans call it these days."

Rory stared at him. "I'm sorry, I think I misheard you. You _are_ her father."

"Don't be an idiot, Rory."

"Well - I - say we did, it wouldn't be any of your business anyhow!" Rory looked to the ceiling and threw his hands up. "I am _not_ having this conversation ..."

"Think of it this way," the Doctor said. "You wouldn't want me coming to _your_ house for a jolly good time, would you?"

Rory glared at him. "You would never set foot in my house. Besides, we live here too now, you know."

"Fair enough. All right, do you like listening to your parents have sex?" Rory blanched violently. "Yes, that's what I thought. You don't want to hear them, I don't want to hear you."

Rory waffled silently for a minute before glaring at the Doctor again. "You are out of your gourd."

"My house, my rules," he replied simply.

Rory gave him a nasty look before heading for the inner door. "I suppose I'd better go tell Amy we're doomed to a life of celibacy."

"You do that, Rory."

The Doctor chuckled to himself as the other man's growl of frustration echoed off down the corridor. He liked Rory, he honestly did, but sometimes it was entirely too much fun to wind him up.

* * *

Amy quietly padded down the halls of the TARDIS in a robe and slippers, humming to herself. After a particularly trying escapade where the Doctor had accidentally landed them in the middle of the Boston Tea Party, she'd felt like a nice long soak in the bath. She supposed the jetted tub in her en suite would have done the trick, but she felt like something a little more opulent. If the Doctor and Rory didn't already know about the Turkish bath she'd found awhile back (and she suspected they didn't), she wasn't going to tell them. She considered it her own private paradise where she could get away from the boys, unwind, and pamper herself for a little while. She got the sneaking feeling that the TARDIS agreed with her and was keeping her secret safe.

As she thought back on their day, she couldn't keep a chuckle from escaping. The Doctor had been cranky at the TARDIS for going off-course again until he realized they were seeing an important piece of American history, and then he was thrilled. Thrilled, that is, until the revolutionists set their sights on Rory. He'd had the bad luck of picking a red shirt to wear that day, and he'd been thrown overboard with the rest of the tea.

_Poor Rory_, Amy thought. _He always gets the worse end of the deal. Still, it was worth it just to see the Doctor jump in right after him._ They'd looked like a pair of drowned rats covered in soggy tea leaves when Amy had run down to help them out of the water.

"_That_ wasn't in the history books," she'd spluttered in between fits of laughter. That had earned her martyred glares from both men, which had only made her laugh harder.

Back at the TARDIS they'd all gone their separate ways to clean up, the Doctor muttering something about smelling like Earl Grey for the rest of his regeneration. Rory had gone to his room, and she had gone to the Turkish bath. She'd stayed longer than strictly necessary, but it had been a nice respite. After drying her hair, she'd put her robe on over her pajamas, gathered up her bath things, and headed back to her room.

As she passed the door to Rory's room, she paused and backtracked. They hadn't had much time to talk that week and she felt like a little company before bed. After she had knocked and heard his voice tell her it was okay to come in, she slipped in and shut the door quietly behind her.

Rory was puttering around near the armoire, adjusting the newly tea-free clothes that he'd hung over the back of a chair to air out. He himself was only wearing a pair of pajama bottoms.

Amy felt her mouth go dry.

He smiled at her as he carried the last of his toiletries back into the bathroom, giving her a peck on the cheek as he walked past. "Feeling better?" he asked.

"Uh-huh," she managed. Her tongue felt like sawdust and she couldn't take her eyes off his bare torso. She mentally slapped herself - it wasn't as if she'd never seen him half-naked before! They'd spent many a summer day at the pool together with friends, and once a year she went with his family to Brighton for a holiday. But then again, he hadn't been her boyfriend then. Oh, she'd snuck a few interested glances as a young teenager when puberty hit, but that hardly counted for anything.

Rory emerged from the bathroom and pointed a finger at his drying clothes. "Remind me never to wear a red shirt ever again. I like tea just as much as the next person, but that was a bit much. Good thing I can swim ..."

She found she couldn't concentrate on his words. She was too busy looking at the slight curves of the muscles in his arms, the sweep of his collarbone, and when he turned, the way the muscles in his back moved. He was not what one would call exceptionally fit, but he had a wiry sort of leanness to him that she found very appealing.

"... but I didn't think the Doctor would come in after me. Crazy, eh?" He turned back around to face her, an old t-shirt in hand.

It was only then that Amy noticed his scar. The Healers on Nerebelis had accelerated Rory's recovery as best they were able, but scarring was something they could not avoid. It was the first time she'd seen any physical evidence of his injury since the attack, and she found herself fascinated. She drifted slowly forward and came to a stop just before him, her hand half-raised as if in a question. Rory glanced from her face to her hand and back again, and shrugged a little.

"It doesn't hurt," he said.

Amy kept her eyes on his for a moment, then lightly touched her fingers to the wound. The scar was located just below his left collarbone, roughly the size of a large bottle cap, and was still faintly pink. She could feel a hard lump of scar tissue forming beneath it. That probably wouldn't ever fully go away, she mused. It repulsed her a little, but she couldn't tear her eyes away: it was a telling reminder of what he had done for her. She didn't think she could ever repay him.

Rory watched quietly as she made her inspection. The scar didn't bother him so much anymore, not as much as it had at when it had been new, all ugly and purple; but the Nerebelid Healers had given him a paste to spread on it daily that sped up the superficial healing. Now he just considered it a badge of honor.

He set his shirt down, brought his hands up to her shoulders and started gently kneading the kinks out of her muscles.

"It doesn't bother you, does it?" he asked softly, watching her face.

Amy firmly shook her head. "No. In fact--" A sudden burst of pride welled up in her heart. "It makes me want to run back to Leadworth and shout to everyone about how brave you are. Everything you've done here, really, you've been nothing but brave and wonderful. No one back home would expect that of you."

"I hope you didn't think I was a _complete_ coward before I joined you and the Doctor," Rory chuckled. Amy laughed in return and swatted playfully at him.

"You know what I mean, silly! I'd like to see anyone else from home stand up to evil maniacs and monsters and aliens the way you have."

Rory finished his ministrations on her shoulders and moved to her biceps. "Careful," he teased. "Keep up all this flattery and I might start to get ideas."

Amy shrugged. "I can't help it if I think it's sexy."

His eyebrows shot up. "Oh, really?" He turned a thoughtful face to the ceiling. "'Sexy', she says. I might have to let myself get roughed up more often ..."

"Oh, don't you dare!" Amy cried, and impulsively attacked his ribs in a fit of tickles. "The only person who gets to rough you up is me." Rory let out a squawk of surprise and twisted away from her, laughing helplessly as her fingers caught him from behind. Amy tried to dart around him, but he caught her hands in his before she could reach him again and spun her around so her back was pulled against his chest. "I like the sound of that," he laughed as she squirmed in his arms, giggling. "Just remember that you can't beat me up as easily as you did when we were younger." Amy managed to slip out from underneath his arms and turned to face him again, her hair falling in her face.

"You're not as tough as you think you are, mister," she teased, and flew at him again. He matched her easily, but she was not to be deterred. They tangled together for a moment until the sash on her robe came undone. Not wanting to trip on it, Amy shrugged it off, balled it up in her hands, and threw it at Rory. He ducked; it sailed over his head and hit the mirror hanging over his dresser. It swung once before coming off its peg and falling to the floor behind the dresser with a crash.

"Oh shi--" Amy gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth to keep from bursting into laughter. Rory, who was likewise stifling himself, shot a guilty look towards the door before hopping over his bed and looking behind the dresser. Thankfully, the glass hadn't shattered. Amy tip-toed over to help him quickly rehang the mirror; then both of them turned and watched the door anxiously, expecting the Doctor to come running through it any second.

When a full minute and ticked by and there was no sign of the Time Lord, they both relaxed. Amy turned to look up at Rory - and felt a shift in the air. Suddenly she was very aware of how little she was wearing and how close they were standing. Judging from the dull red flush creeping up Rory's neck, so was he.

She swallowed and looked down shyly. Unfortunately, that only had the effect of drawing her eyes to his stomach and the waistline of his pajamas. Biting her lip, she jerked her eyes back up. Rory was clearly drinking in the sight of her wearing nothing but a flimsy camisole and silk shorts. Seeing him look at her like that - with eyes full of desire and _hunger_ - made her stomach do a somersault. Lifting her hands, she placed her fingertips lightly on his chest before splaying them out so her palms rested flat against him. There was still a thin film of sweat across his brow from their wrestling, and she realized she was right: he was intensely attractive when disheveled. She was seized with the sudden need to feel his skin across every inch of her own, so much so that it hurt. Hearing his breathing quicken along with her own, she slid her hands up to his shoulders at the same time he stepped forward to lower his mouth onto hers.**  
**  
She immediately parted her lips to let him in deeper. He kissed her slowly, languidly, but with a burning passion she'd never felt from him before. She twisted her fingers into his hair, trying to pull him closer. Her need to feel him against her had reached fever pitch and she was pretty sure she would die in the next few seconds if it didn't happen. She couldn't stop a small whimper from escaping.

Rory responded by snaking his arm around her waist and pulling her body flush against his. She moaned into his mouth and his hand clenched against her hip, his nails digging into her skin. He was making a feeble attempt at pushing her towards the bed; a thrill of anticipation ran through her and she pulled him the rest of the way until the backs of her legs hit the bedframe. They paused for only a second before falling backwards onto the bed together, and Amy barely had time to regain her senses before Rory was moving over her, lacing his fingers through hers and leaving a blazing trail of heat across her collarbone and up her throat with his mouth. As she greedily sought his lips out with her own, Amy feared she might faint from the delicious agony he was inflicting on her. She was vaguely aware of him whispering her name repeatedly between kisses; this made her decide that clothes were a nuisance. Rory had known her for so long, he knew every inch of her soul and all that made her who she was ... now she wanted him to know the rest of her.

Before she could act on that, a deafening explosion rocked the TARDIS.

Rory swore loudly, throwing his arms protectively over Amy until the shaking subsided. Then they both raised their heads to look towards his door.

A delayed clang of metal on metal sounded from the direction of the console room. A second later, a nervous-sounding Doctor's voice drifted down the hall.

"... Er, Rory? Amy? A little help here would be appreciated ..."

Rory sighed and rolled away from Amy, standing and crossing over to where he'd dropped his shirt on the floor. "What'd he break now?" he wondered aloud grumpily. Amy numbly sat up and started fumbling around for her robe. There was yet another metallic clang, and the sound of the Doctor yelping. Rory rolled his eyes and pulled his shirt on over his head. He was just about to reach for the door handle when the sight of a stricken-looking Amy stopped him in his tracks. She had just finished tying the sash on her robe and was standing next to the bed, staring despairingly at him. The sudden interruption of their passion and the absence of his closeness had left her feeling strangely bereft, and she was struggling with a head full of confused emotions.

"Oh, love," Rory murmured, crossing quickly back over to her and wrapping his arms around her. She leaned her head on his shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he said. There was another rumble from the console room.

"_Rory!_ A little help please, if it isn't _too much trouble!_"

Rory winced and pulled back. Then he placed his hand on her cheek. "I love you, you know that, right?"

Amy took a deep breath and nodded, sighing. There - she was centered again. Rory smiled gently and took her hand.

"Let's go get whatever that was taken care of, make sure the Doctor hasn't bungled himself up, and then we can come back here. How's that sound?" At her smile, Rory opened the door and together they rushed hand-in-hand to the console room to discover the source of the Doctor's latest personal disaster.

Unfortunately, it took so long to clean the soot and tea residue off the walls of the console room that by the time they finished, they were too tired to do anything except go straight to sleep.

* * *

One week later, Amy was walking down the hall to her room after breakfast. As she passed by Rory's room, the door opened and he came out in a blur, grabbing her hand and pulling her down the hall in the direction she had just been coming from.

"What--?" she gasped. Rory motioned for her to keep quiet and picked his pace up. Amy followed in confused silence - she had no choice, really - as they turned down a side corridor and stopped in front a random door. Glancing both ways, Rory yanked it open and pushed Amy inside. He stepped in after her and shut the door, enveloping them in darkness. She was horrified to see that they were in a cupboard.

"_Rory!_" she hissed as he twisted around to face her; the cupboard was small and it was a tight fit. "_What are you doing?!_"

"Trying to get one bloody moment alone with you," he whispered back. Already he was cupping her face in his hands, peppering her with kisses.

Amy wouldn't argue that time together had been at a premium lately - ever since they'd left Nerebelis 6, in fact - but the circumstances were all wrong. She made a half-hearted attempt to push him away.

"In a _cupboard?_" she shot back.

Rory's hands stilled in their efforts to push her jacket off. "Oh, don't tell me you haven't noticed what's going on," he complained. "Ever since - well, ever since you and me got together, every time I so much as lay a _finger_ on you the Doctor runs in, or the TARDIS tries to blow up, or there's some evil from the dawn of time we have to go after. Doesn't that strike you as being a bit funny?"

Amy considered this. They'd left Nerebelis 6 five weeks ago and she could count on one hand the number of times she'd actually kissed Rory. And she was still smarting from their last interrupted rendezvous. The Doctor _did_ seem to have an odd habit of knowing exactly where they were ...

"It's not fair," Rory muttered. "Not my fault he passed you up and wishes he hadn't."

"Rory! What's got into you?" Amy was shocked. He was not normally like this - sulky and petulant, and had he actually just said he thought the Doctor was jealous? "Stop that, right now. If the Doctor didn't want us together like this, I think - I think he would've said so."

His shoulders slumped and he sighed. "Amy, I'm sorry. It's just ... I've waited years for you. And now that I've finally got you, I can't even spend any time alone with you."

Amy's heart melted. Poor Rory. He really had been patient, hadn't he? She held her arms out to him, and he gratefully pulled her into a tight embrace. "Don't worry ... we can try and make the time," she reassured him. "That's a promise."

Rory gave her a squeeze in response and leaned back to cradle her face again; she could just make out his relieved expression in the dim light coming in from underneath the door. "Trust me, love, I'd like to be somewhere besides a dark cupboard going at it like two horny teenagers," he said. "But I'll take what I can get."

"Likewise," Amy breathed, and grabbed a fistful of his shirt to pull him forward into a kiss.

It was awkward at first - they bumped noses and he accidentally trod on her foot in his eagerness to get closer - but the illicit nature of their little tryst was getting them both quite aroused. Rory's hands seemed to be everywhere at once - _oh god, where did he learn to do _that? - and Amy found herself frustrated that she couldn't get any closer to him than she already was. She snaked her hands into his hair and hooked one ankle around the back of his leg. That sent him off-balance and they fell backwards against a row of shelves that Amy had just been leaning against. She was pretty sure she would later regret having that broom handle jammed into her back, but the obscene amount of attention Rory was lavishing on her neck was well worth it. His hand was sliding up her thigh toward her skirt - if he kept that up, the extremely unladylike noises she was making would mean the Doctor would probably find them very soon, whether he was actually looking for them or not.

Just then the TARDIS gave an almighty lurch. Amy shrieked as both she and Rory were thrown sideways into the cupboard door; it gave way under their combined weight and crashed open, spilling cupboard contents and humans alike out onto the corridor floor. She slid to a stop against the far wall and threw her hands up to shield herself from flying buckets, mops and bottles of cleaning solution. Closer to the door, she could hear Rory groaning in pain.

She'd only just managed to regain her dignity when the Doctor came running around the corner. "Amy! Amy, are you all right? I'm really sorry about that, I don't know what got into her--" He reached out to help her to her feet, tutting as he brushed an oily rag from her shoulder. Amy's knees were practically knocking from disappointment; she unconsciously jerked her skirt down. The Doctor looked concerned. "Oh my, you really _are_ hurt, you're shaking! I do apologize, I mean it - I was working on the internal stabilizer and I must have hit a nerve, the old girl didn't like it one bit. We should go get you checked out." He looked around the corridor, glanced down, and did a double-take. "Rory, what's wrong with you?"

Amy followed his gaze and winced. Rory was on his hands and knees in front of the cupboard door, grimacing in pain and running his tongue experimentally along his teeth. After a moment he looked up at them, face aghast.

"I fink I knocked a toof looth."

* * *

Thankfully it hadn't been a loose tooth - just a good enough hit that Rory spent a few days looking like he'd gotten the worse end of a barfight.

When the Doctor suggested that they take a break from their usual bit of world-saving and dictator-toppling to take a holiday, Rory had immediately suggested Brighton.

"Brighton?" The Doctor repeated, wrinkling his nose. "You mean Brighton, England, and not Brixton-Parssum, Bright Jewel of the Twenty-Seven Systems? Nicest purple beaches you'll ever see?"

"England," Rory replied patiently. "We go there on holiday every year with my family. Thought you'd like to see a little bit of what _we_ call a vacation, and have a real break. Think about it - what could possibly go wrong in Brighton?"

The Doctor considered this for a moment before nodding his head in defeat and throwing a switch on the console. "Brighton, England it is then. Are you sure you don't want to see Brixton-Parssum?" This last was directed at Amy.

She laughed gently and shook her head. "I'd really like to see Earth again, Doctor. We can go to Brixton-Parssum later."

"Just make sure you don't land in the second week of July," Rory added. "I really don't fancy running into myself."

"Best beaches this side of Andromeda," the Doctor repeated under his breath as the time rotor groaned into motion. Amy and Rory shared a grin behind his back.

They landed in Brighton without incident. While Rory went to go scope out his parents' holiday cottage, Amy and the Doctor took a stroll on the boardwalk. She judged that they had arrived on a late spring morning, as the air was warm but not stifling, and the beaches weren't overly crowded. She pointed out all the landmarks and shops that held special memories for her in addition to ones she thought the Doctor might like. He was listening intently, walking along with his hands folded behind his back and a faint smile on his face. This pleased Amy to no end - it had been a while since she had seen her Time Lord friend truly content and carefree.

Rory found them standing on some rocks by the shore, taking turns tossing pebbles into the sea. The Doctor had spread his coat out behind them and rolled up his shirtsleeves so he could angle for better distance. The wind had whipped his hair into a frenzy and it was a wonder he could see to throw at all. Amy was cheering and applauding him - he had just outhrown her again.

"House is all clear," Rory called up to them, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the sun. "I don't know what year we're in, but the spare key is still in the same spot. We should be fine."

"Oh, ye of little faith," The Doctor chided as he hopped down from his perch and extended a hand to help Amy down as well. "Didn't you bother to check a newsstand? We've landed in your present. Ah ... I could do with a nice cup of tea after all this walking. Perhaps some biscuits as well, I'm fam--"

Amy trod on his foot.

"--I mean, I was thinking of dashing off to the TARDIS for a moment to pick up a few things, you know, or take another walk down the pier. I saw some lovely shops thereabouts. Do you think they might sell Jammie Dodgers?"

He had worked himself into a slight tizzy while putting his coat back on. Amy smiled primly as she took Rory's arm.

"I'm sure they do, Doctor," she replied. "There's a sweet shop near the end of the pier, isn't there, Rory?"

"Several," Rory said, glancing between the two of them. The Doctor had just proudly pulled several British bank notes out of his pocket and was waving a fistful at them.

"I have the proper coinage this time, too," he said cheerfully. "This will do quite well, I think."

Amy pointed a finger at him. "Go easy on the biscuits, Doctor. They're not good for you."

"Oi!" The Doctor looked offended. "I know what I can handle, thank you very much. Now go on, scram, and don't get into too much trouble."

Rory smiled innocently while Amy laughed and stepped forward to kiss the Doctor on the cheek. He looked flustered at the unexpected display of affection but was nevertheless pleased.

"We'll see you soon, Doctor," she said. "Have fun!"

"Ahem, yes," he said, and turned off down the shore towards the pier, long legs striding confidently.

Amy smiled happily at Rory as she took his hand, and together they made their way through the streets and rows of Brighton to the Williams holiday cottage, situated near the edge of a bluff overlooking the sea on the edge of town. Rory breathed in the salty air as they walked, feeling perfectly at ease. He'd walked this same path with Amy numerous times over the years, oftentimes wishing he had the right or the courage to hold her hand like he was now, or hoping their long friendship might blossom into a summertime romance. Looking back on it he'd been painfully obvious - he knew now that Amy had known of his adoration all along - but he was thankful she had stuck with him regardless. His only minor regret was that the usual summer crowd wasn't here to see him out with his girl.

As they crested a hill and the small row of houses that the cottage belonged to came into view, Amy felt the first twinge of excitement in her gut. This was a place of happy memories; the one time a year she could escape the troubles with her father and pretend she belonged to a real family. Martin Pond had never viewed Rory or his family as a threat, which was why he had let his daughter go on holiday with a boy in the first place. She chuckled wickedly to herself. Her father would have a heart attack if he knew what she and mild-mannered Rory were up to now ...

She paused by the front door while Rory retrieved the spare key from a fake rock underneath a bush, rubbing her hands together. Rory had quite a surprise in store for him.

The second they were safely inside, Rory dropped the key onto a side table and pushed her up against the door, his mouth slamming hotly onto hers. Her knees nearly gave out and she had to push back against him to regain her balance, her hands grabbing at his shirt collar. She could feel herself igniting, her mind swimming, her body moving in tune with his hands as they slid down her back and over her rear. She gasped against him, but this wasn't right, it wasn't going according to plan--

She pulled away with great difficulty, eyes wide and breath heavy. "Wow," she said shakily.

Rory chuckled throatily. "Sorry," he murmured apologetically. "I couldn't help it."

"Cheeky," she whispered, tapping his nose. She forced herself to move past him, looking out into the sitting room. "It looks the same as always. Weird." Rory had made a sudden beeline for the back door.

"Aye that," he said, throwing the deadbolt and testing it. Then he started running from room to room, checking all the windows and pulling the curtains. Amy watched with a certain degree of amusement as he finished, went back into the kitchen and started unplugging phones.

"Rory," she laughed, "what are you _doing?_"

"Making sure the Doctor can't reach us," he said shortly. He dug his mobile out of his pocket and switched it off before tossing it into the back of the laundry bin. "He is _not_ interrupting this time, so help me god, he won't. Here, give me your mobile. Your TARDIS key, too." Amy bit back a smirk as she obediently handed them both over; Rory pulled the chain of his own key out from underneath his shirt and dumped them both into a biscuit jar. He jammed the lid securely on it and put it on top of the kitchen cabinet, shoving it to the back.

"'This time'?" Amy echoed innocently. Rory grunted as he shut the kitchen door and came back into the sitting room.

"Yes, this time," he replied, picking up another phone and looking underneath the receiver. Then he glanced at her, standing very still by the couch, and his face went slack. "Oh, bugger. Amy ..."

"What is it?"

He set the phone down. "Amy, at the risk of sounding like a right horny creeper, I ..." He mimed making grabby hands at her. Amy blushed, and he gave her a pleading look. "I can't stand it anymore. Every time we get a moment alone the Doctor bungs it up. I swear he's got some sort of Time Lord radar in his head that goes off the second I so much as touch you or you look at me or whatever."

Amy finally smiled.

"I wouldn't worry about that right now," she said airily. "I don't think he'll be bothering us today."

Rory paused in the midst of picking the phone back up and gave her a dubious look. "Really? What makes you think so?"

Amy leaned against the back of the couch and smiled again, feeling immensely pleased with herself. "Oh, we had a chat while you were gone. I just implied that we were putting up a 'Do Not Disturb' sign and that he couldn't bother us unless the world was ending."

"You _what?_" Rory yelped.

"And I made sure he knew it was in the literal sense, not in the 'bollocks, we've run out of tea' sense."

Rory was torn between admiration and horror. One one hand, he was quite glad Amy had taken the initiative to ensure the Doctor would not be interfering this time; but on the other, the idea that she had essentially told the Doctor she was kipping out for a shag was ... unsettling. And gross. He didn't like thinking about the Doctor thinking about them shagging.

Amy uncrossed her arms and stood up from the couch - time to play her trump card.

"I told him not to expect us back until tomorrow." She paused slightly before raising her eyes to his, fixing him with a look that could only be described as saying 'come and get it, big boy.'

The sudden heat that flared up in Rory's belly made his mouth drop open and his eyes go unfocused. He dropped the telephone.

"I bloody love you," he gasped, and lunged forward to pull her into a bone-crushing kiss.

* * *

The sun was just beginning to sink low in the sky when Amy finally stirred and woke. She stayed very still for some time, listening to the sound of the waves crashing on the shore, and quietly let the events of the past several hours sink into her mind.

The first time had been ... the terms 'combustive' and 'like rabbits' came to mind. Several weeks of pent-up sexual frustration had simply exploded, and she had barely recognized the two people who had torn at each others' clothes and knocked things off of tables as they tripped, stumbled, and clawed their way to the bedroom. It had been rough and desperate and not at all like she had imagined it would be, and over much too fast, but on the whole she couldn't complain. It was the best sex she'd ever had in her life.

Well, it was the _only _sex she'd ever had in her life, but that was beside the point.

Once they regained their wits, Rory had taken the time to do things properly. It was a point of amusement that they both felt and acted shyer than they had the first go-around. She attributed it to the fact that they were actually _aware_ of each other that time instead of just blindly seeking release. Rory had been awkward and earnest and oh so very _Rory_ that she had felt as though she was truly falling in love, compared to the sudden shock of realization she had experienced on Nerebelis 6. She mused that having one's body worshiped as though it were an object of reverence was something she could get used to. Of course, she had returned the favor as soon as she was able to - and she found it to be just as gratifying as receiving.

A soft smile spread over her face. Not even two months ago, she couldn't have imagined that she would be where she was now. She would never have guessed that her lifelong best friend could ever be anything other than just a friend, much less a lover. But now he was all of these things and more, and she wondered how she had ever got along without. _I'm in love with him_, she thought to herself, and once again experienced the tiny thrill that those words brought, like butterflies in her stomach. She marveled at the knowledge. _I love Rory. I _love_ Rory._

Rory, whose shoulder her head was pillowed on, whose arms loosely encircled her; whose face looked serene and content in the warm light filtering through the curtains. Rory, who was gently and adorably snoring.

Amy grinned to herself and shifted so that she was propped up on one elbow, careful not to disturb him. It was getting late and she was a little hungry. She wondered idly what might be in the cottage pantry, and decided it might be time to wake Rory up. Reaching out to lightly wind her fingers into his hair, she chewed her lip thoughtfully. There were all sorts of wicked little ways she could wake him up ... her stomach did a funny flip as she thought of one in particular. _Hmm. Dinner might have to wait awhile._

She was just leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth when there was a loud knock on the outer door.

Rory jerked awake with a snort and sat bolt upright, his eyes blinking fuzzily. "Wha ...?"

The loud hammering came again, followed by the muffled sound of the Doctor's voice. "Amy! Rory! Are you two in there? Of course you're in there. Come here, quick!"

"Oh, for the love of--" Rory groaned, pulling a face. He grabbed his pillow and hurled it in the general direction of the front door. "_Sod off!_"

"... this cave and - I heard that, Rory Williams, and I promise I can and _will_ leave you here--"

"I'd like to see him try," Rory grumbled, pulling Amy's pillow over his face. She had gotten up and was tying the sash of her robe, her hair already pulled back into a messy ponytail.

"I'll see what he wants," she murmured, moving towards the sitting room. Behind her, she heard Rory heave a sigh and slide off the bed, grabbing his pajamas.

The Doctor was still gabbling excitedly on the other side of the door. "Hurry _up_, I must tell you all about it, it's the most fantastic thing I've ever--" He was cut short by Amy jerking the door open, not bothering to undo the latch. His face lit up when he saw her, apparently oblivious to her disheveled and undressed state.

"Ah! Amy, there you are. And Rory too. Listen, I've made the most amazing discovery. Did you know that Brighton has caves near the beach? I didn't - well, I do now. And I was exploring one of them, you see, and far in the back I came across this gorgeous crystal deposit. Sparkled like diamonds, all colors of the rainbow! What makes them amazing is that they aren't even_ Earth_ crystals, they're quite plainly crystals from Xabara Major, though how they got here I haven't a clue--"

"Doctor," Amy cut in sweetly, "what part of 'do not disturb' did you not understand?"

The Doctor goggled at her, like her interruption had completely derailed his train of thought. "What do you mean? I understood it very well, but I thought this was far more important than a shag--"

Rory made a choking noise.

Amy rolled her eyes. "You broke your promise because of some silly _crystals_?" Honestly, the man was unbelievable. She narrowed her eyes. "Have you been overeating on sugar again?" she asked. "I haven't seen you this hopped up since--"

"No," The Doctor replied too quickly, and went to put his hands behind his back. She was faster; she grabbed one and pulled it through the narrow door opening.

"Uh-huh," she said knowingly. "Your fingers are sticky. I _told_ you to go easy on the biscuits!" The Doctor had the grace to look sheepi

sh; Amy looked back at Rory. "Time Lords and sweets don't mix," she explained. "I found that out the hard way."

The Doctor jerked his hand back and rubbed it, his face indignant. "It wasn't my fault!" he cried. "I was at the pier and the candy flosser was there and he had the kind that was three flavors on one cone! I couldn't possibly pass that up. Besides, my last self handled sugar very well, thank you very much."

Amy fought the urge to smack him a good one. "Well, you obviously don't," she pointed out. "You're acting like a three-year-old high on licorice allsorts." Rory snickered rudely, but clapped his hand over his mouth when the Doctor glared at him.

"I am not," he insisted. Amy smiled wearily at him and gently pushed his face out of the door. "Good night, Doctor."

The Time Lord's eyes went wide. "But what about the cave? I promise you, you've never seen anything like it, you'll love it--"

"Tomorrow."

"But--"

"Good _night_, Doctor." She shut the door quietly but firmly in his face.

There was silence outside for a moment. Then they heard a huffy exclamation of "_Humans!_", followed by the sound of his boots stomping off down the front walk. Amy went to the window to peek through the blinds and make sure he was really gone.

"Poor sod," she chuckled. "We completely burst his bubble. Ah well - serves him right for getting overloaded on sweets." She turned away from the window to face Rory, and was surprised to find him staring at her in awe.

She frowned. "What? What did I do?"

Rory seemed to be grasping for words. "You really do love me, don't you," he finally managed.

Amy laughed. "Of course I do, silly! I've told you so, haven't I?" She stepped forward to take his hand and squeeze it, smiling. "What brought this about?"

"Eh." Rory shrugged and looked thoughtfully towards the ceiling. "You just turned down an opportunity for adventure and excitement to stay here with boring old me, is all."

"I would hardly call crystals in a cave at Brighton exciting," she said, pushing her hair back over her shoulder. "Besides, I bet they aren't even from Xabara Major, wherever that is. It's probably just some quartz."

"Still." Rory's face was wry. "You turned him down."

It took a beat, but her eyes widened as the truth dawned. "Oh! You think I still might fancy him a little, don't you!" When he didn't reply, Amy took a step towards him. "I thought I'd chased all those fears away by now."

Rory looked sidelong at her, then down at his feet. "Well, a man can't help but feel a little inferior sometimes. The Doctor can take you anywhere in time and space that you want, constellations and new planets and whatnot, and the best that I can do is Brighton for the weekend. How does that even begin to compare?"

It was sweet how hesitant he looked, and how hopeful. Amy dropped his hand and folded her own behind her back, smiling coyly at him. "What if I told you that I much prefer Brighton right now?"

"I'd say that you're barmy."

Her smile widened. "Good thing I'm not then." She moved forward until they were nearly toe-to-toe and let her fingers drift up to his chest. She was pleased to note the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed, and a dull flush crept into his cheeks. It was encouraging. "Besides." She began to trace tiny patterns across his collarbone. "I wouldn't let the Doctor do to me what you did a few hours ago."

Rory swallowed again as his hands came up to lightly grip her elbows. "I would hope not."

"I _know_ not." Her fingers continued their dance across his shoulders, trailing goosebumps in their wake. "And I certainly wouldn't do _this_ to the Doctor." As she spoke, she stood on tiptoe to raise her lips to his ear, and sucked gently on his earlobe for a moment before letting go and blowing softly on it.

A noise akin to a hiccup came from Rory's throat, and his fingers tightened convulsively around her arms.

"Or this," she murmured, ghosting her lips over his cheek. "Or this." Kisses along his jawline. "Or this." A final kiss to the hollow of his throat.

"You are a wicked, wicked girl," he mumbled, voice trembling.

"Woman," Amy corrected. "Woman. I quit being a girl the second you took me into that bedroom."

This time Rory's whole body shuddered, and Amy couldn't help but grin to herself. If teasing him about his sexual prowess made him this adorably jumpy all the time, she was going to have to hone her craft.

She went to kiss his cheek again, but Rory was already turning his face toward her. He caught her lower lip between his teeth and pulled her into a kiss that immediately deepened. Her hands went to the back of his head, pressing him even closer. When they finally pulled apart, Rory sighed in contentment before leaning his forehead on hers.

"I was thinking," he said after a moment. "It's getting late, and you're probably hungry. Lord knows I could go for a spot myself after that, ah, workout you put me through." Amy gasped in mock outrage and tried to pull away to swat at him; grinning, he wrapped his arms around her and refused to let go. "We could go round that pub that we used to sneak out to, after Mum and Dad and Abby went to sleep," he continued. "Remember that?"

Amy nodded against his shoulder, a rush of warm memories passing through her head. Their sneaking out had almost always been her idea; at first she'd practically had to drag Rory, he protested so much. Not that she would ever purposefully spit in the face of the Williams' generosity, but the thrill of getting up to no good with her best friend while on holiday had been too tempting as a young teenager. Of course, their idea of 'no good' paled in comparison to what other teens did. They'd only ever asked for a drink once, when they were thirteen - the barkeep had been far too amused by their attempts to look older to kick them out. Mostly they played a round of pool, or threw darts, or watched a repeat of the evening's football game on the pub telly. It was only with age that Amy realized the only reason the barkeep had ever let them stay in the first place was that he knew who Rory's parents were.

"You used to say they had the best fish and chips in England. Mmm ... I could _really_ go for some of those chips right now."

Amy felt a sour sort of disappointment. She'd been putting on some of her better moves and suddenly he was thinking about _food?_ She couldn't stop a small noise of protest from escaping.

"But!" Rory drew back and held up a finger to forestall any more complaints. "But, I had another idea. I thought we could maybe mix things up a bit."

"Like how?" Amy thought she knew where this was going now, and any sort of hurt she'd felt just seconds ago promptly vanished.

The grin that came over Rory's face had the effect of turning her knees to jelly. He reached out to take her hands again, and brought one up to kiss her knuckles. He took a deep breath. "I thought we could go backwards. Have dessert first."

And then he _waggled his eyebrows_ at her.

Amy felt like she might faint. This was definitely a Rory that would take some getting used to, but my oh my was she looking forward to trying.

"You read my mind," she breathed. He was already leading her in the direction of the bedroom, walking backwards so he could stay facing her. Her heart began to thump madly.

"Ah, see, now that's where I'm better than the Doctor," Rory grinned, tapping his temple. "I don't need funny paper or a sonic screwdriver to know what you're thinking. I'm slightly psychic all on my own."

Amy snorted as they passed into the bedroom. "You'll have to excuse me if I'd rather not think about the Doctor right now, Rory. That's like a cold shower if I ever wanted one."

Rory's laughter was like a ray of light on a cloudy day. "Yes ma'am," he chanted, and as he moved forward to let her hair down from its ponytail, he reached out with one foot to kick the door shut behind them.

* * *

It was much to Amy and Rory's chagrin when they discovered the next morning that the world really _had_ been about to end. The crystals the Doctor had discovered in the cave had indeed been from Xabara Major, and had been planted there by the Xabaran Hive Mother as a heat source for the incubation of her newest clutch. Once she learned of the Doctor's discovery of her nursery, she declared the whole operation in ruins and ordered the Xabaran military to purge the tainted site. Unfortunately for Earth, 'purge' in Xabaran Standard really meant 'incinerate the planet'.

Several hours, lots of running, and one furious Time Lord later, the three of them were back aboard the TARDIS having averted another global catastrophe. On the whole, Rory rather thought the Doctor was doing an admirable job of not saying "I told you so," despite the smirk he swore he saw on the other man's face.

Once they had dematerialized into the Vortex, they'd gone to the kitchen for a much-needed cup of tea. It went a long way towards soothing frazzled nerves and it wasn't long before the Doctor had shed his tweed coat and was cheerfully reciting a list of the places they could go next. Rory was still too preoccupied with the thought of the goo bath they'd suffered at the hands of exploding alien eggs to even _think_ about stepping outside the TARDIS again, and a knackered-looking Amy was in danger of nodding off into her tea mug.

So it was a surprise to him when, upon announcing his intent to take Amy to the medbay and conduct a thorough examination of her person to check for any injuries, the Doctor didn't object. He didn't even make a face. Instead, he simply smiled enigmatically and asked that they please mind the hypo tray.

And from then on out, if the Doctor ever heard suspicious sounds coming from the direction of Rory's room, or Amy's room, or any of the rooms in between, he held his tongue.

Well ... most of the time he did, anyway.


End file.
